Hook, Line, and Sink Her
by Unoriginality is Blasphemy
Summary: Being questioned by the Military for treason and prostitution, the Red Blade Alchemist takes a trip down memory lane. CanonXOC, rated for suggestive content and language.


"Um, okay.. where do I start? Auch...that light is a bit bright...would you mind-oh...alright I understand. I-um...ahem. Pardon me if I don't answer properly, I've never been questioned before. My name is Trinity Asha Claude-de-Saint. Yes, I am being quite honest. I am currently nineteen years of age. I became a State Alchemist at the age of seventeen. I was given the title The Red Blade Alchemist due to the high iron content in my blood and the ability to transmute that and use my iron to make weapons. I received my hand tattoos at the age of fifteen from my former caretaker Dean Thomas. I met Edward Elric on my first trip to Dublith..."

* * *

"Trinity?" A soft, masculine voice called out, hints of worry hidden behind each gentle word.

"Trinity, you really have to wake up..."

A tiny teenage girl shifted in a cramped cupboard space, her bare back pressing against the cracked wooden floor of the enclosed area, her thin legs positioned uncomfortably high. Half of her face was draped with midnight coloured hair, tints of blue intertwined within the unwashed strands. A ring of dirt crusted beneath her neck as her chest steadily rose and fell. The older man gently swiped a few strands from her face, reveling lightly tanned skin. Her eyes fluttered open, drowsy aqua orbs of wonder...and irritation. The soft-voiced male put on a mug of his own, taking hold of her hair and yanking her out of her sleeping space.

"Dean!" She cried out, her masculine voice reaching a higher octave. She grasped his closed fist and started whining.

"C'mon...I was just resting!" Trinity started flailing wildly as Dean sighed and lifted her higher, tighting his grip. A few strands of her hair were pulled out and Dean began scolding the teen.

"You are seventeen years old, sleeping in the middle of the day." He stood up straight and pursed his tender pink lips. His soft, gentle voice contradicted his harsh words."You need to get ready." He huffed, releasing the whimpering teen. Trinity pulled away and exhaled sharply and crossed her arms. 'Getting ready' obviously meant they had a job to do. Trinity just didn't feel up to it today. She was more than tired, she was exhausted. The bags under her eyes indicated the sleepless nights she endured because of her caretaker's drunken antics.

The freckles that usually danced across her bronzed cheeks looked like age spots. Without sleep, she looked a lot older than seventeen, which is great for the jobs she needed to prepare for. Dean, her handsome caretaker began running a tub of bath water, not that she was unable to do so herself, but simply out of courtesy. He did wake her up in a rude manner after all. Warm water splashed out of the faucet, quickly filling the basin. Trinity entered the washroom and Dean realised how she was dressed. Her typical tightly bandaged chest and a pair of worn slacks. Her hands carried a soft looking towel and a bar of soap. She visibly trembled and Dean set a hand on her frail shoulders, trying to settle her. "Please try to relax," He whispered, reaching over to twist the faucet off.

"I hate doing this..." Trinity said as she shed her pants. Dean watched her thin legs tremble and let out a sigh. He loved Trinity like a daughter, and this way of making money was horrid. "I hate it as much as you do, " Dean said, turning away as she stepped in to the bath water. Trinity pulled the elastic band out of her hair, the loose ringlets falling over the edge of the tub, hitting the floor of the washroom. Her curls broke free from the band that caged them, her thick wavy hair brushing against the floor. Dean sat next to the tub and leaned back, stretching out his long legs.

"So, who is this guy?" Trinity asked, batting her eyelashes. "Thomas Mcclarin," Dean responded, glancing at his nails nonchalantly. "From Central, working in Central Bank. A wife, but married twice with a kid first time around." Trinity closed her eyes as she attempted to relax. her long hair into the tub and began scrubbing it vigorously. "Why would a family man like him want to associate with someone like Natasha?" Dean rolled his shoulders and placed his hands behind his head. "Men get lonely and bored...what more can I say?" After leaning back, Trinity rinsed her filthy hair. "So, how much is he willing to pay?" "His entire life savings...we bagged a desperate one." Trinity submerged herself once more. She hated what she did. Even hours after scrubbing away the filth and shame, she was never the same. Dean awaited her with a towel once she rose. Wrapping it around her body, he watched as her midnight colored hair covered her face. She exited the tub and went to get dressed.

Her skin was soft, yet worn from those years of malnutrition. She was thin, always had been. Thin and incredibly frail. Trinity started preparing while Dean was lost in thought. Sitting in a towel, looking at herself. A tragedy in itself. She seen Dean in the reflection of the mirror and closed her eyes. He lifted her hair and helped tie it into a tight bun atop her head. He placed a hair net tightly on her head and let out . Trinity dusted white powder on her face, paling out her features. Dean began lining her eyes with soft brown. A pale blond wig set upon her hear as her crown. A white face, painted red cheeks and lips like bubblegum. Her eyes mimicked the color of aquamarine, a very distinct trait of Trinity. But Trinity was gone. Only Natasha remained, the twenty-two-year-old from West City. But in all actuality, Trinity was only seventeen, born in Pendleton...alongside her mute nineteen-year-old sister. But Natasha was all dressed up with somewhere to go.

* * *

"Dean..." Trinity whispered with closed eyes, her gloved hands and tattooed ribs itching with anticipation.

"Do you really want to do this?" He responded, secretly holding back sadness. His voice was melodic, remorse strung throughout each phrase.

Trinity rolled over and peeled off one glove, revealing Alchemy tattoos. "I"m positive."

* * *

A/N: Whoo. This was a boatload to do on my phone, haha. Sorry for the long, boring intro, but I promise it will pick up. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, but I do own this plotline and Trinity. And if you have any pairing ideas, pkease let me know. 3


End file.
